Only For You
by beajizz
Summary: She was in mid-conversation with Finn who was excitedly filling her in on what she's missed over the past month, but you know she isn't paying attention to him anymore. Her eyes are locked on yours and you bite back a smile. Maybe, you think, she missed you too. You try to not get your hopes up. - Bubbline/Sugarless Gum.


You watch her intently from across the room and silently admit to yourself for the millionth time that she's_ cute. _It might be because of the fact that she's been away for a while that makes her physical appearance even more potent, but over the course of your friendship with her you've eventually realized that the vampire you are staring at is actually rather adorable. You watch her drift on the spot, free of her sun-protective garb, bass tight against her back as always. Her fangs glint as she smirks, _that damn smirk._ She turns her head slightly, knowing your eyes are on her, and catches your gaze from where she floats. Teasingly, she darts her long, forked tongue at you. _Fine, really cute._

She was in mid-conversation with Finn who was excitedly filling her in on what she's missed over the past month, but you know she isn't paying attention to him anymore. Her eyes are locked on yours and you bite back a smile. _Maybe, _you think,_ she missed you too. _You try to not get your hopes up.

She lifts her slender hand to rustle it in Finn's hair, calling him a champ. He punches her lightly in the arm, and they both share a laugh. She thanks him for throwing her this welcome back party, as unnecessary as it was. He smiles as they wave each other off, going in different directions around the house. He makes his way over to Jake as she makes her way over to you. The grip on your cup tightens and you hear its plastic crack as it bends in your hand.

She's a whole head taller than you when she's afloat, so you're made to tilt your head up as she draws nearer. You used to find it ridiculous, this notion of having to practically stare up at her in pseudo-worship, being the vampire queen and all. But now you know each other better, _much better _in fact, and you understand it to be a cute habit of hers. For you though, and _only you_, she lowers herself, the tips of her shoes a hand span off the floor. Her smirk widens a little, baring more of her sharp, white teeth.

"Missed me, Bonnie?" Her head cocked, knowingly.

Your lip twitches. "As if." Of course you missed her, terribly. Every agonizing second that didn't have your mind buried in kingdom duties, you thought about her. You tried to find distractions in your experiments but you can only blow so many chemicals up before you realize that you're just toying around. You missed her, but you won't give her that. "Hardly even realized you were gone."

She chuckles, deep from her throat. Oh, how you've _ached_ for that sound again. "Please Bonnie, unless there was someone else floating outside your window," her eyes flicker with what you believe to be jealousy for just a second – if you weren't watching carefully, you wouldn't have caught it – and just as quickly returned to normal, "then I'm pretty sure you've missed my late night intrusions."

And you have; so very badly. You miss her floating just above the balcony ledge, but never entering. You miss the twang of her bass as she plays a melody, a private song for your ears only. You miss her hair draping over your beakers and paperwork when she does decide to come in, distracting you from your duties. You also never thought you could miss vulgarity and distastefulness as strong as Marceline's, but you do. Nonetheless, you decide to play her game. "If there was someone else, theoretically of course, would you be jealous?"

Her smirk falters by the smallest margin before she speaks. "You mean hypothetically, don't you?" She glares and you laugh at how easily the tables have turned.

"Oh, but _Marcy_," she sneers at the nickname, "hypothetical situations are but liable estimates whereas theoretical situations can be proved with evidence and facts, no?"

You're unsure if your remark has actually bruised a part of the vampire because you see her shift within herself, as if she's second-guessing something. You hold your breath wondering if she's gotten softer during her leave, but before you can say you're only joking, she lets out a light sigh.

"Whatever you say, dictionary," is all she manages to shoot back with a weak grin you see right through, "I know you've missed me."

* * *

The rest of the party goes smoothly. You play games, feed Marceline red foods that she's missed and share stories, most of which are just drama-bomb filled gossip that LSP willingly brings into conversation, mostly for her own amusement. A few of you even pitched in to get Marceline a welcome back present: a new amplifier for her bass. It was definitely difficult to get your hands on, but her reaction was worth it: embarrassment laced with blatant surprise, topped off with a genuine smile and even softer eyes.

_Adorable, _you think again.

You've only seen that reaction twice; the first time was when you first hugged her, _really_ hugged her, tight enough that you actually heard a few bones crack. The second time was when you stunned her with concert tickets you managed to grab for one of her favorite band's in the east end of Ooo. And although you try to enjoy the night, you can't help but draw yourself back to what happened earlier.

You're essentially uncertain as to where you stand with Marceline; the boundaries have been hazy ever since you two grew closer. She keeps her distance enough to make you wonder if she feels the same about wanting more from you, but close enough to let you know you mean more to her than all of the others at the party combined.

Your feelings for Marceline are nothing new; they've settled with you but you refuse to act upon them for the sake of your friendship. You would much rather have her be the closest friend you'll ever have rather than jeopardizing that for your own selfish 'wants' of having a relationship with her. However, you can't help but take note of the way she looks at you, acts around you and treats you. Her previous reactions fail to go unnoticed as well.

"Ooo to Bonnie," she waves a grey hand in front your face and you snap out of your thoughts. "Geez, this party's supposed to be about _me_ and you're just standing there!" She floats down to level her mouth with your ear, lowering her voice to a decibel only audible enough for you. "Are you okay?"

You smile at her tenderness knowing it comes as quickly as it goes, easily masked by her uncaring bravado. Her gentleness, however, is specifically reserved for you, an understanding that goes unspoken. It's these kinds of things that make you wonder.

"I'm fine, Marceline, thank you for your concern." She backs up to give you a sharp look and you bite your lip. _She's been around for a thousand years; _you mentally slap yourself,_ of course she can read you._ You inhale sharply before you blurt out, "Actually, I'm feeling exhausted. Running a kingdom isn't easy." She doesn't waver, so you decide to jump the gun. "Would you… care to see me home?"

Your request is so shaky you can't even tell if it made it all the way out of your sticky mouth, but judging by Marceline's smile, she understands. The two of you stay for a few more minutes before you say your respective thanks and goodbyes. You watch as she gives everyone a tight hug, knowing it will probably be the only one they'll ever receive from the icy vampire. She gets to Finn last; putting him in a headlock before saying she'll be back to pick her amp up the following night. The party waves you off and the two of you are on your way.

* * *

The walk home is relatively comfortable. Marceline has given you her hoodie after seeing you shiver and you try your best not to shove your face into the fabric, never wanting it to leave you. The shirt she gave you a few months ago still smells like her, but it's nice to have a fresh scent like this one.

You honestly _are_ rather exhausted and when Marceline takes notice, she picks you up bridal style without saying a word and flies the rest of the way. She's flown you home before but something about tonight feels different.

"Did you have a good trip?" You manage to break the silence.

"Yeah." It's as short as it is sharp. The word is as stiff as the body that it comes from and you worry if _she's_ the one who's 'alright'.

"What did you do?"

"Vampire stuff," she smiles softly down at you.

You bury your face into the crook of her and the skin that touches your face tightens as she swallows hard. You feel the fingers around your waist and thigh tremble faintly and it's so out of character for Marceline to be acting like this. You've been this close to her before, so why is she acting this way? You decide to relieve the tension in the air.

"I did miss you, you know." As if it wasn't obvious enough. Thankfully, your voice manages to stay unmoving, knowing your point was made clear. "And no, nobody else came to float outside my balcony while you were away, Ms. Jealous," you add for reassurance.

Her grip only tightens and her gaze remains straight ahead. You sigh, unsure of what there's left to say, and lose yourself to the spell of slumber in her arms.

* * *

You feel a nudge near your leg and you crack an eye open to see that you're back in your room, already tucked in under the covers. At the foot of your bed, you find a pair of neatly folded pajama pants. You sit up to rub the sleep out of your eyes and when they finally adjust to the dim lighting of the moon, you see movement by your closet door. Marceline is sifting through your mountains of pink articles to match the pants she's already laid out.

"Marceline?"

She jolts, actually frightened by the sound of your voice. She turns around and clears her throat before speaking. "Oh, uh, hey. I was just looking for a shirt for you, I mean, in case you wanted to change when you woke up." She waves the one she's currently grasping out in front of her. "Not much selection other than pink, huh?"

You smile sleepily at her before pointing to the chair by the dresser. "It's over there," you gesture to a black shirt folded neatly upon the seat, "Could you grab it for me?"

She floats over and holds it out at arms length in front of her. She smirks at the design: two impaled marshmallow looking creatures, obviously dead, with a large snake slithering down the center. "Geez Bonnie, you wear this _every_ night?" You nod. "Well, the band would be honored." She throws the shirt in your direction but you swat it away and look deep into her eyes. Your start beading sweat and you exhale shakily.

"No… I want you to put it on me." You feel brave, but you're scared to death. You want to run, but you're stuck in place. You want to turn away, break eye contact, but you need to see her reaction. You need an answer.

Her pointy ears perk up and what appears to be a blush in the darkness creeps up from her neck and slowly flushes her face. You'll ask about it later, how she's able to blush if she doesn't have any pumping blood of her own. But that's off topic; right now, you need this situation settled.

"Oh," is all she manages to muster for a while. She takes a breath she doesn't need and swallows hard once more before continuing, "Are you sure?" You nod again.

She holds the air in her lungs as she picks the shirt up and opens it at the base. "Take off the sweater." You shake your head. You're going to make her work for it. If you mean something to her, it's all or nothing. You trust her, but you need to know if _she_ trusts you, especially with situations as close as this.

"Seriously, Bonnie? …Ugh." She tosses the shirt aside and makes her way to the hem of the sweater that rests along your hips. She hesitates for a moment, like she needs reassurance to know that you're okay with this and when you make no move to resist her touch, she slides the sweater up at a painstakingly slow pace.

You look at your dresser, the floor, even the wall; anywhere that isn't Marceline. Your breathing slows and eventually stops when the edge of the sweater reaches just below your chest. It doesn't go unnoticed.

Her grip loosens as she begins to pull away. "Bonnie, I-" You put a finger to her mouth and using your free hand, you gently grasp one of her wrists as a sign to continue. She blows air out through grated teeth before bringing it up higher to reveal the rest of your upper body. Her scent leaves you as she pulls the sweater over your face and you take one last inhale before it's off completely. Cold air is blowing in through your window but you're too flushed to feel anything but the warmth of your own blood just underneath your pink skin.

The tension in the room looms above you, literally, because Marceline simply hovers there and you can't bear to face her in your vulnerability. You let her drink you in, eyeing your exposed flesh. From the corner of your eye, you can see the tips of her hair intensifying into sharp points and her chest is rising and falling at an alarming rate for someone who doesn't respire, perhaps out of nervous habit. You steel yourself as you see her hand reaching out towards you, but she flashes to the shirt instead. You're unsure if you're actually disappointed that she didn't try to touch you. She holds the shirt open once again and clears her throat. This time, you look.

Your eyes lock for what feels like minutes, hours, then days; the thoughts of her absence begin to flood and rush through you in that one look. The sleepless nights, the heartache, and the utter disappointment of her not being there is overwhelming but you try your hardest not to break under her piercing yet sincere eyes.

She draws closer, maintaining the stare as she slips your slender arms through the sleeves and slowly brings it down. Your lips tremble just as much as her hands do but you are determined to get your answer tonight. She lowers it down until the head's opening is just over your brow and right before you shut your eyes completely, she smirks and darts a wink at you. You are momentarily engulfed in the darkness of the fabric but you have just enough time to intoxicate your senses with the familiar aroma of strawberries and everything associated with the color red, everything associated with Marceline, and that included shameless urges.

As soon as you feel the cool air blow against your face, you don't even wait for her to finish rolling the rest of the shirt down over your abdomen; you lunge at her with full force. Pulling her down from where she floats, you hold her down against the bed and wrap your arms around her neck. Running your fingers through her hair before tugging, you kiss her, hard, harder than you've ever had the desire to before. You don't even bother to lick the small drop of blood her fang makes on the surface of your lip, you just need to feel her against you.

For a minute you two are frozen in that position, neither of you knowing what to do from here. The ticking of the clock grows louder and louder until it sounds like the kingdom's bell tower has implanted itself in your ear canal and you begin to mentally berate yourself for pulling such an idiotic move, especially for someone of your intellectual quotient. You sigh into her before you release and pull away to read her, as much as it might kill you to see.

Surprisingly, her face isn't twisted in disgust or repulsion. Instead, her face is flushed beyond belief, in shock of course, but there's a smile plastered on her face and her eyes are smoldering softly.

In one swift motion, Marceline grips your waist and shifts your positions until you're comfortably underneath her. She pulls your hands out of her hair and her cool palms cup yours, which she has pressed together in front of her mouth. Her lips tenderly kiss each of your smooth knuckles as she whispers,

"_Oh Bonnie, I missed you." _

She releases you as she places her palms on each side of your face. She leans down and sighs into the crook of your neck, _"I've missed you so much."_

She reluctantly shifts back and her eyes are now searching yours for some sort of answer to a question unasked. But you know very well what she's looking for: she's looking to see if you understand _what_ she means, _why_ she means it and _that_ she means it; she means everything she does for you and you hope, with all your heart, that she knows you mean it all the same.

You wrap your arms around her again, trying your best to keep your heart from beating right out of your chest. She carefully presses her mouth against yours and you melt in her touch.

You've seen that reaction three times now; the first time was when you first hugged her, _really_ hugged her, tight enough that you actually heard a few bones crack. The second time was when you stunned her with concert tickets you managed to grab for one of her favorite band's in the east end of Ooo. And the third was in that moment, after you finally let your heart win over your brain, _after you first kissed her._

However you know all too well that this isn't the last of either.

Yes, she's cute.

Yes, she's even adorable.

But above all, yes, she's yours alone.


End file.
